


Distant Voices

by kronette



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is my version of the episode "Distant Voices." This is a little of what I would have liked to have seen. Bashir is in a coma, and each of his friends visits him in sickbay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distant Voices

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Sedi Jarelle is my own creation. Originally posted in 1995.

Doctor Julian Bashir entered Quark's with a wary eye. Dax had asked him there with no explanation, and he wasn't sure what to expect anymore. He had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable around Dax, the Chief, even Garak lately. Whenever he tried to have a serious conversation with any of them, they seemed to brush him off. And after last week's disastrous dinner with Kira, he wasn't sure he wanted to face her again. All she did was tease him a bit, but he didn't seem able to control his reactions anymore. He nearly bit her head off, and all over something stupid. He shook his head. He had apologized, and everything appeared normal, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

"Julian! Over here." Glancing around, Bashir saw Dax sitting at a corner table, waving. Expertly dodging moving bodies, he made his way over to her table.

"Hello Jadzia," he greeted her as he slipped into a chair.

Dax nodded. "Thanks for coming Julian. I wanted to talk to you..."

"Could I get you something doctor? Lieutenant?" Quark interrupted them with his usual perfect timing.

Both officers shot him a glare. "No, thank you Quark," Dax said pointedly. Quark got the hint and moped off, muttering to himself.

Bashir hesitated a bit before commenting, "I thought you had a great fondness for Quark." He held his breath, waiting for the punchline.

Dax rolled her eyes. "I do, but he can be a bit... persistent when he wants to be."

Bashir let the breath out slowly, then offered a hesitant smile. "So I've learned. What did you want to see me about?" he asked.

Dax leaned in closer. "Julian, what if I told you someone wanted to get to know you better," she asked conspiratually.

Bashir leaned his elbows on the table, trying not to look interested. "I'd ask who it was, then I'd probably take her out to dinner."

Dax's eyebrow raised. "What if you already know her?" she answered coyly.

Bashir's eyes lit up, despite warning bells going off in his head. "Now you have me curious. Who is it?" he couldn't resist asking.

Dax nearly laughed out loud at the childlike anticipation in his eyes. "Leeta." She was shocked to see Bashir's expression fall.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry Jadzia. But I just don't think we have anything in common."

"Julian!" she admonished him. "You only talked to her for a few minutes. You don't even know her!"

Bashir leaned back in his chair, putting more space between him and Dax. "I know enough."

"Oh really?" Dax nodded to something behind Bashir, and he turned around. Leeta was laughing with Chief O'Brien, tossing darts at the dartboard - their  _lucky_ dartboard.

"Looks like she has at least two things in common with you," Dax prodded gently. Bashir's head snapped back around, a questioning look on his face. "Darts and Chief O'Brien," she elaborated.

Bashir snorted. "She can't be any good." A shout and the unmistakable sound of a bulls-eye hit rang out, causing everyone to turn to Leeta. She was laughing at O'Brien's expression - utter shock - and went to pull her darts out of the board.

Bashir turned back to Dax, his expression entirely different. "Maybe it couldn't hurt to try again," he said as nonchalantly as he could with a straight face.

Dax wasn't fooled. "She gets off work at 2100," she told him as she left the table.

Bashir nodded slowly, smiling at Leeta.

***

"We've been out on a few dates." The dart flew from Bashir's hand and landed in the ten point section.

"And?" O'Brien asked as the next dart landed in the outer ring.

"Chief," Bashir sighed with exasperation. "You're ruining my concentration." Tip of his tongue in the corner of his mouth, Bashir aimed the last dart.

"So, what do you think of her?" O'Brien asked as Bashir let the last dart fly. It missed the board completely.

"She's nice," Bashir answered through clenched teeth as he went to retrieve his darts. This was their third game, and already the Chief's questions about Leeta were beginning to annoy him.

"Is she now?" O'Brien asked as he let his first dart fly - hitting in the twenty point section.

"Yes, she is," Bashir commented noncommittally. "And isn't Keiko due back next month?" he inquired innocently just as the dart left the Chief's hand. It hit somewhere in the nether regions of the board.

O'Brien shot Bashir a scathing look. "Yes, she is," he replied a bit nastily as he aimed his last dart.

"And have you decided on what to do once she gets here?" Bashir asked.

O'Brien halted his toss. "Do you mind? I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Sorry Chief," Bashir replied, a bit huffily. "I was just making polite conversation."

O'Brien closed his eyes, counted to ten, then let the dart fly. It hit the outer ring of the bulls-eye. "Let's see you beat that," he challenged as he went to retrieve the darts. When he turned back, Bashir was grinning, but not at him. "Oh, no," he muttered to himself. He waved his hand in front of Bashir's face. "Julian."

"Hm? What? Oh, is it my turn?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Leeta. She waved at him before turning back to the Dabo wheel.

"Yes it is." When Bashir didn't acknowledge him, O'Brien got a wicked gleam in his eye. "I'm ahead by 100 points, and you've just lost your quarters to me." When that didn't get any response, O'Brien nearly lost it. Holding in his laughter, O'Brien cleared his throat and said as calmly as he could, "The Borg have come and assimilated everyone on the station. You and I are the only two left."

Bashir seemed to come out of his haze a little bit. "That's nice, Chief." He finally noticed O'Brien, and wondered why he was turning red. "Chief, are you all right?" he asked with some concern.

O'Brien had the hardest time keeping a straight face. "Oh, I'm just fine Julian. It's your turn, by the way."

Wondering just what it was that had the Chief nearly choking with laughter, and having the nagging feeling it was about him, Bashir threw his darts quickly, one of them hitting the bulls-eye. His smile blossomed just as the Chief's faded.

"I can't believe you hit that," O'Brien said disbelievingly.

"All in the wrist, Chief," Bashir commented with a broad smile.

"Is that where it is?" a very feminine voice asked. Both men turned around as Leeta sauntered up behind them. "Hello Julian."

Bashir leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Hello Leeta. I'll just be a minute. Chief," he turned to the engineer, "Do you mind if we continue this game later? I have a dinner date."

O'Brien rolled his eyes, but forced a polite smile. "Don't let me keep you."

"Thanks." Bashir flashed him that annoying grin and escorted Leeta out of Quark's and to the Replimat. O'Brien tossed his darts at the board and went to get a synthale.

***

"So, how was your date last night?" Dax asked as she sat down next to Bashir. The Replimat was crowded, not unusual for lunchtime.

Bashir shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "Not bad."

Dax blinked in astonishment. "'Not bad?' That's it? Is this the same Julian who was raving about a certain Dabo girl two weeks ago?" she teased.

Bashir sighed, setting his drink down with more force than was necessary. "I don't know if it is or not. I got called to the Infirmary again last night," he added grumpily.

Dax sobered a bit. "I'm sorry. Work does tend to get in the way, doesn't it?"

"Of a good time? Always," Bashir answered even more grumpily. Leaning his head on his hand, he sighed again. "I've been seeing - correction, trying to see - Leeta for nearly three weeks, and I still don't know that much about her. We just can't seem to find the time to be together."

Dax smiled in sympathy. "Julian, you're always telling me that you need to slow down with your relationships; that you tend to rush in heart first, head much later. Just don't force it. Everything will work out in the end."

"I suppose so." Bashir picked at his food a bit more, then pushed it aside. "I've got to get back to the Infirmary. That shipment of new diagnostic equipment still needs to be catalogued and installed."

Dax put her hand on his arm to stop him. "Julian, you just got here. Will you relax for a bit?" she teased.

Bashir shot her a glare. "Jadzia, trust me, I'd rather be working." Standing abruptly, he left the Replimat, the usual bounce to his step missing.

Dax shook her head with a smile. That man was in it, and in it deep. The smile softened on her lips as she remembered old, lost loves.

***

"Sir, I'd like to request a vacation." Bashir stood in Commander Sisko's office, watching as Sisko tossed his baseball in the air.

Sisko broke into a smile and motioned at the chair. "Sit, please Julian. And just what do you need a vacation for? Are you planning something special? With Leeta, perhaps?" Sisko teased. It seemed that was the only way people could talk to Bashir nowadays.

And he was tired of it.

"No sir," Bashir replied with a hard edge to his voice. "I'd like to take a vacation solely for myself, by myself. I'd like to go to Bajor for a few days, perhaps a week."

Sisko sat up at the strange tone in the young man's voice. Not only was his body language telling him he was tense - arms crossed, foot tapping - but his normally sparkling eyes looked tired and hard as diamonds. "I believe we can spare you for a week, doctor. When would you like to go?"

Bashir seemed to sag in the chair. "As soon as possible," he replied, his tone nowhere near as flip as the words He was deadly serious. But as always, Sisko missed it.

Sisko clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back. "How about in two days' time? Will that give you enough..."

"Perfect!" Bashir nearly bounded out of his seat. "Thank you sir." His smile brought back a little of the doctor that Sisko knew.

"You're quite welcome. Just don't have such a good time that you don't want to come back," Sisko couldn't resist the jibe.

Bashir's face fell instantly. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir," he answered a bit testily. Turning on his heel, Bashir left the office, Sisko staring after him.

"He certainly needs a vacation," he mused out loud.

***

Bashir viciously tossed clothes into his suitcase. He had put up with Dax, O'Brien, Kira, Sisko, even Garak's taunts about his vacation, and his seeing Leeta,  _everything_ for far too long. The more he thought about it, the harder he tossed clothes and belongings.  _They've been treating me like a child. I could understand from Dax, but Sisko_? _Garak_? _That's just too much_. Realizing he had packed nearly all his belongings, he let out a bemused chuckle. "Maybe I am thinking of not returning," he said to himself, surprised at the force of emotion behind that statement.

He shook his head. "I've been on this station for far too long." He removed some of the items, slung the case on his shoulder, and locked up his quarters. He had requested a runabout, and so headed for Pad C. Besides getting some much needed piloting practice, he could begin his vacation that much sooner - a brilliant plan if he said so himself.

Settling down in the pilot's chair, he began the pre-flight check. " _Orinoco_ to OPS, requesting clearance for departure." Tapping the console, he brought up the diagnostics. Everything checked.

" _Orinoco_ , this is Dax. You are cleared for departure. Have a safe trip, Julian," she added.

Bashir could almost see her smile. "Thanks Jadzia. See you in a week." He felt the docking clamps release and fired thrusters, clearing the landing pad and then DS9. Out in the quiet of space, Bashir relaxed and asked for some music.

"Please specify," the computer requested.

Sighing patiently, Bashir ran through his mental catalogue of music. "Hm. How about something classic. I'm in the mood for loud, obnoxious, and...uniquely Human." He smiled as the soothing sounds of Pearl Jam echoed in the cabin. "Just what the doctor ordered."

***

"Now would be a good time," Doctor Julian Bashir muttered to himself as he fought with the runabout. He was on his way back from Bajor; a short vacation, a brief respite from the hectic chaos that was his life aboard DS9. The trip had actually turned into more of an expedition. He had run into a few Ministers, and they had invited him to their Monastery. He had spent the better part of his trip in the quietness of the gardens, the tranquillity of the isolation the grounds enjoyed. He had engaged in some pleasant conversation, but whenever he felt the need to be alone, he explored the surrounding forest. Or when he felt more adventurous, he ventured to the village, only a few kilos down the road. It had been a wonderful vacation.

And now his fingers flew over the console, trying to regain control of the _Orinoco_. It had been gliding along smoothly; then mere minutes out of Bajor's atmosphere, the systems simply started to malfunction, one by one. Attitude control was lost; navigation was spluttering. He tried rerouting connections, bypassing systems, but nothing he did seemed to have any affect. Gripping the edge of the console, Bashir tried to keep himself in his seat as the runabout plunged back into the atmosphere.

***

"Commander, incoming call from Bajor," Major Kira Nerys announced, ready to put the call on viewscreen.

Commander Benjamin Sisko stepped next to his second officer, trying to bite back a grimace. "Is it Kai Winn again?" he asked with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Kira shook her head. "No, it's one of the ministers Julian visited. Minister Terata," she supplied.

Sisko straightened. "Put him on." Tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment, Sisko said, "Minister Terata."

The minister barely noticed him. "Commander, I'm afraid I bring you bad news. The runabout that your doctor was on has crashed in the Piratus Mountain Range. Our people have located him; he has been brought to the monastery." Terata broke off, consulting with someone out of viewscreen range.

Sisko leaned forward, anxious lines along his mouth. "Minister, how is he?" he asked hoarsely.

Terata focused again on Sisko. "I'm afraid he's badly hurt. We have summoned the healer from the local village, as well as our own healer for the monastery. It looks serious," he cautioned.

Sisko's expression darkened. "I'll call the nearest starship and request that they..."

"There isn't time for that," Terata interrupted him impatiently. "Doctor Bashir has lost a considerable amount of blood; we can't replicate Human blood. You need to send someone down here. Now," the old man's eyes flashed.

Sisko gave a short nod. "I'll have someone down on Bajor in two hours. Sisko out." He started shouting out orders as he walked to the turbolift. "Major, you're in charge here. Dax, check the medical database; see what blood type Julian is, and find a match for him. Make certain that person is on the Defiant before I get there." He reached the turbolift and started to descend. "And Chief, meet me on the Defiant; I want to know what happened to that runabout."

As the turbolift sank out of sight, OPS became the center of activity.

***

"Commander's log, Stardate 48233.5. We are taking the Defiant to Bajor, in answer to Minister Terata's request. Doctor Bashir's runabout crashed in the Piratus Mountains, and he was severely injured. As the Bajorans cannot replicate Human blood, I am heading to Bajor on full impulse, pushing the engines to get there before he bleeds to death. I only hope we arrive in time."

Sisko shut off his log recorder and turned to O'Brien. "How long?"

O'Brien didn't glance up. "Five minutes."

Sisko turned back to the viewscreen, urging the _Defiant_ faster.

***

"I'm afraid he _was_ the multi-species specialist, Doctor Lanall," Doctor Giavon Edi hesitated to answer. He was a slight man in his mid 60s, with graying hair and a nervous habit of tugging on his earring. His ear was sore already, and if things continued, he wouldn't have the ear for much longer.

"Surely there's someone else here who's had Human patients before?" Doctor Lanall Anasta asked nastily as she paced the tiny room. She hated not having enough knowledge of her patients; more than she hated not having the proper equipment. And this time, she lacked both.

"I'm afraid I've never been off-planet, Doctor Lanall," Doctor Giavon answered apologetically. "And you know the databases are woefully inadequate to deal with anyone other than Cardassians around here. Why, it took us a year after the withdraw just to recall the Bajoran national files... "

Lanall broke in impatiently, "Yes, yes, I know! I don't need a history lesson. What I need is a basic understanding of human physiology. Get me a comm link with the space station," she ordered. When her aides didn't move, she fixed them with her steely grey eyes. "I meant now," she threatened quietly. One of them scampered off to make the connection as Lanall sighed. She brushed her hands through her shoulder-length brown hair with an impatient gesture. She stared in at her patient, biting her thumbnail in exasperation, not knowing how much time he had left.

***

"I am Major Kira Nerys. How can I help you?" Kira asked as the comm link to Bajor was established.

"I am Doctor Lanall Anasta. I am treating your Doctor Bashir. I need access to your Human medical database," she demanded without preamble.

Kira almost made a snappy comeback, until she saw the look of desperation in her eyes. "I'll get a comm link to the medical database to you shortly. Kira out." They exchanged nods and the doctor's image blanked off. Kira immediately began the sequence to transfer the medical database down to Bajor.

***

"Doctor Lanall, the information you requested is coming through," the aide announced. Lanall pushed past him to the screen, quickly absorbing as much as she could.

"I'll need to set up surgery immediately. I didn't realize the damage was this extensive. No wonder he had problems breathing," she muttered to herself as she scrolled through the data.

"Just how bad is he?" Sisko asked as he and O'Brien beamed into the Infirmary. "Is he conscious?"

Lanall whirled to face him. "Commander Sisko, I'm sorry to report that Doctor Bashir has not regained consciousness since he was brought here nearly two hours ago. After I have done a complete review of Human physiology, I will have more information to give you. Right now, I must get ready for surgery. Did you find someone who has matching blood type?" she asked.

"I'm your man," O'Brien piped up. "You don't even know how bad off he is?" he asked quietly.

Lanall missed his worried look. "He's bad. I know he has quite a few cracked ribs. His left leg is shattered; I can fix that now. The normal bruises, lacerations, minor stuff. What I'm most worried about is his unconsciousness. I'm assuming he hit his head; but I won't know the extent of brain damage until I do a diagnostic..."

"Did you say brain damage?" Sisko interrupted her incredulously.

She nodded solemnly. "It's a possibility I can't rule out at this time. I just don't have the information yet. I'm critically understaffed and lacking equipment. I'm doing the best I can here, so if you'll just excuse me," she pushed past Sisko and grabbed O'Brien's arm, "and you come with me, we'll see how much we can patch up."

"Wait." Sisko took a step toward them, glancing in the surgical room. "Would you object to using the Defiant's sickbay?" he asked.

Doctor Lanall froze in her tracks. "You have a starship sickbay?" she asked.

Sisko nodded sharply. "The equipment there is a step up from this; you might find it easier going," he added.

Lanall glanced from Sisko to Bashir's room. "I'd hate to move him. I'm not even sure the transporter is a good idea. He's only precariously stabilized," she warned. Coming to a decision, she nodded. "I'll prepare him for transport. The ship's equipment has got to be better than this."

Sisko watched the young doctor scamper into Bashir's room, a few of the lines of worry around his mouth deepening.

***

"Any word yet from Bajor?" Dax asked as she returned to OPS.

Kira shook her head. "No. The doctor - Lanall was her name - requested information on Human physiology over three hours ago, but that's the last contact I've had. The Defiant is in orbit, so the Commander and the chief must be there," she added hopefully.

"Excuse me, ladies." Both Kira and Dax turned around in surprise at the sound of Garak's voice. He stepped off the turbolift and took a few tentative steps into OPS.

"What can we do for you Garak?" Dax asked. She took in his distressed state with a bit of astonishment. Not much ruffled the tailor's feathers, and he only came to OPS in a dire emergency or when summoned.

"I do hate to intrude, but I'm inquiring after Doctor Bashir. Have you any word yet?" he asked, hope creeping into his soft voice.

Kira was taken back. She knew they had lunch; had even formed a sort of friendship, but she didn't think he cared about Bashir. "No, Garak, I'm sorry. The Commander and Chief O'Brien are already on Bajor though. I'm sure he'll be fine," Kira asserted.

Garak stepped further into OPS. "That's not what I've heard, Major," he replied quietly. His voice sounded hollow in the stillness of OPS. "I've heard our young friend is in serious condition."

Dax spoke up. "Garak, how did you hear of this? We haven't had any contact with Bajor since..."

"How serious?" Kira interjected, more concerned about the worry in Garak's pale eyes.

Garak looked straight at her. "Very." He broke eye contact, glancing at the nearly empty OPS. "It seems everything is quieting down. I'll bid you good-night." He stepped back in the turbolift.

"Garak." He turned at the sound of Kira's voice.

"Yes Major."

"I'll let you know the minute we hear anything about Julian." She inclined her head; Garak just blinked.

"And I'll return the favor, Major." He returned the nod finally, and descended from OPS.

***

"Well, I'd say he'll live, if he ever wakes up," Doctor Lanall announced upon leaving the Defiant's sickbay. Sisko stood up, ignoring the leg cramp he had gotten while sitting for the past four hours.

"What is his condition now?" he asked, limping over to Lanall.

She stripped off her remaining surgical scrubs and turned to him. "Commander, I'm not going to lie to you. He's still in pretty bad shape, and has shown no sign of regaining consciousness. But, I've repaired most of the physical damage I could locate, and some I couldn't." She nudged him with her elbow. "That was a joke."

"I know." Sisko attempted a brief smile. "How's the Chief?"

She waved her hand. "Oh, he's fine. A little sore in the arm, but he'll be fine. Boy, that man hates doctors, doesn't he?" she rolled her eyes.

That got a chuckle out of him. "Yes he does."

"Yes who does what?" O'Brien asked as he joined them, having the sneaky suspicion that they were talking about him.

"Oh, nothing," they chorused.

O'Brien shook his head in feigned exasperation. "Why me?"

Sisko slapped him on the back. "You're just that kind of man, Chief. When can we see Julian?" he asked Doctor Lanall.

"Any time. I firmly believe hearing familiar voices helps patients in comas." Her statement fell like a stone in the silence. "This isn't a shock to you, is it? I said he hasn't regained consciousness."

Sisko swallowed hard, while O'Brien's eyes widened. "I thought he was fine. That's what you said, that he would be fine," O'Brien's voice rose as he took a step towards the young doctor. Sisko caught his arm.

"Chief," he warned quietly. He turned to Doctor Lanall. "I was under the impression that his unconsciousness was just temporary, due to the accident and surgery. You said nothing about a coma," Sisko tried to remain calm. He wouldn't let O'Brien see how upset he was.

"I - I'm sorry," Lanall apologized, glancing from one man to the other. "It's been a trying time since Doctor Bashir arrived; I'm afraid my tact has fled, as well as my bedside manner. Doctor Bashir is in a trauma induced coma. He could come out of it tomorrow, next week, or next month. There's nothing medically I can do for him. If it's all right with you, I'd like to return to the station with you. You'll need a doctor while he's recovering and I'd like to be nearby, in case of complications."

"You're anticipating complications?" Sisko dared to ask. He was beginning to question this Bajoran's medical skills more by the minute.

Doctor Lanall seemed unconcerned - or unaware of Commander Sisko's concerns. "There could always be complications in accidents such as this. Things all the diagnostic equipment in the world might miss. I just want to be there in case he needs me."

Sisko contemplated that for a minute. The station would need a doctor while Bashir was recovering, and who knew when Starfleet would see to it to send one. "All right. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"Thank you." She nodded to the two Starfleet officers and went to the transporter room. Sisko and O'Brien watched her leave, then O'Brien walked back to the doorway.

"Chief, what are you...?" Sisko began, then stopped.

O'Brien glanced to him, his mouth drawn in a thin line. "Sir, I'm going to spend some time with Julian," he announced, his voice shaking.

Sisko understood, probably better than the Chief realized. He was worried about Bashir too. "Go ahead Chief."

O'Brien managed a thin smile before grabbing a chair and sitting down next to Bashir's biobed, careful not to jog the instruments covering his chest and legs. He stared down at Bashir's pale face - what was visible around the bandage covering the left half of his head. His face still bore some tiny scars here and there, but O'Brien couldn't see how that little damage could have put him in a coma.

"But I'm not a doctor, now am I," he muttered to himself. He glanced up at the readouts over Bashir's head, not sure exactly what they meant, but the weak pulsing sound had a calming affect on him. He looked closer, trying to make out what it was. When he discovered it was Bashir's heartbeat it sent a shock through him.

"Julian, me boy, I'm not giving up that easily," he whispered to him. "Now, Doctor Lanall said to talk to you. You know I'm not the world's best conversationalist..." the Chief broke into a smile, "but I'll do my best. Hey, remember the time on Tellani Three? When we were discussing marriage? Well, you may have had some good points there, but I still say you were wrong. Keiko is still the best thing that's ever happened to me. And Molly. God, Julian, you don't know what it's like to hold your child for the first time. She was such a wee thing; I was afraid I'd hurt her. But she turned out just fine..."

_Flashes of a beautiful, laughing face...a crisp, new uniform...arguing...shouting...leaving_

***

Kira's voice was soft as she told Dax of the latest transmission from the Defiant. "Doctor Lanall is aboard. She insisted on coming back to the station, since we'll be needing a doctor until Julian regains consciousness. He's in a trauma induced coma, whatever that is. The Chief's been with him the entire trip back," she finished quietly.

Dax nodded coolly and continued to tap at her console, not really seeing what she was doing. Her thoughts flew immediately to Torias. _No_ , she instructed herself. _Julian's not Torias. He's not going to die_. She forced her memories - Torias' memories - down and continued her work. "Thank you Kira. Did Doctor Lanall say she would act as Chief Medical Officer in Julian's absence?"

Kira snapped out of her thoughts. "I think I said that... didn't I?" She looked back at Dax, who was intent on her readouts. Of course this wouldn't upset her; she had lived seven or eight lifetimes. She had seen more death than Kira cared to think about. She didn't fear losing a friend. And now Kira was forced to admit she did see Bashir as a friend. Hell, she had even asked him to dinner a few weeks ago.

"Kira? Maybe we should call it a night. We're not doing a lot of good here, anyway," Dax said wryly. Kira nodded, never noticing Dax's smile was forced, or the worry in her pale blue eyes.

"Sounds good to me. The Defiant will dock in about two hours. Might as well catch some sleep while I can," Kira admitted, joining Dax in the turbolift.

The turbolift sank out of sight, both women occupied with their own thoughts.

***

Garak found his way back to his quarters blindly. Standing in his living quarters, he wondered briefly how he had gotten there, then tossed that aside. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He had heard the reports on Doctor Bashir; trauma induced coma, nearly half the bones in his body broken, two replacement organs ordered. If he came out of it, he would be different, Garak was sure of that. Grabbing a bottle of Kanaar, Garak settled down in his sofa, keeping the tumbler full.

He remembered the last time he had seen him. He had actually taken up the teasing that everyone was so fond of. He had found it so easy to do, and Julian seemed to take it with such good humor. At least, that's what he thought. He had watched the young Human around Dax and Sisko lately, and had noticed he wasn't himself. He had marked it up to just tiredness, or overwork, but when he requested a vacation away from the station, then he had known that Bashir had reached his limit.

And now he wondered when he would get the chance to apologize.

***

Kira didn't bother to call for lights as she entered her quarters. She just started stripping off her uniform and readied herself for bed, trying not to think. But as soon as her head touched the pillow, her mind awoke. She tried to force down the memories, but the more she pushed them away, the faster they came. She finally allowed herself to remember, from the first annoying "frontier medicine" speech to the most caring "let him go" speech about Bareil. She fell into a fitful sleep, disjointed memories to keep her company.

***

Dax was flat on her back in her quarters, stretched out on her couch. She had no desire to sleep; her mind was too occupied. She wasn't thinking, she wasn't feeling; she was remembering. All her past hosts, and how many of them had lost friends, family. How they themselves had died. Of course, Torias was foremost in her mind. His experience had been traumatic, not just for the Dax symbiont, but for his family. He had only had the symbiont for ten years; not nearly enough time. Jadzia let all those memories wash over her, not wanting to forget any of it. She, like Dax, would never forget.

***

The Defiant docked at 1747 hours, and Bashir was immediately shuttled off to the Infirmary, Doctor Lanall in tow. Sisko and O'Brien decided they would try to catch some sleep before reporting to OPS. O'Brien had indeed stayed with Bashir the entire trip; despite Sisko coming in and ordering him to sleep. In the end, Sisko had stayed with him, talking.

Kira had awoke at 1740, not feeling any better than before she went to sleep, and returned to OPS. After ten minutes there, she decided she wanted to see Bashir for herself, so she went to the Infirmary, not quite sure what to expect.

Seeing Bashir lying so... lifeless; it startled her more than she was prepared for. Gathering herself, she approached him, blinking hard. His head wrapped in gauze, covering half his face. Regenerators on his left leg and his chest, bone knitters, she supposed. He looked so pale... she grabbed a chair and sat next to him, not sure what she could do.

"You may try talking to him. I'm a firm believer that he can hear everything that goes on around him." The voice startled Kira badly, but whirling to its source, she recognized Doctor Lanall.

"Doctor Lanall. Just how bad is he?" she asked, turning back to Bashir.

"He's in a lot better shape than he was a day ago," she quipped. "I'm sorry, force of habit. When I'm nervous, or in a tense situation, my so-called sense of humor worsens." She placed a hand on Kira's shoulder, offering her a little comfort.

"It's okay. I understand," Kira replied. "But how is he?"

Lanall took a deep breath. "I've replaced his liver and spleen; those were crushed beyond repair. His ribs are healing nicely, and I've inflated his collapsed lung. His leg should be completely mobile in two weeks. The only problem I can see right now is his coma. Once he comes out of that, he should be fine."

Kira blinked back tears, cursing them as she did so. "I see. Well, thank you for what you've done for him. It sounds like it was a horrible crash. I know the Piratus Mountains; not the ideal place to crash land," she joked feebly.

"I see I'm not the only one who resorts to humor in crisis situations," Lanall said softly, dragging a chair over and sitting down. "I'm Anasta, by the way."

Kira shook her hand. "Nerys. I don't normally joke; I rarely joke, but Julian just makes it so easy. No matter how many times he irritated me, inside, I was laughing - most of the time." Kira's face lit up in the softness of memories. "The first time I saw him, he said Bajor was the 'wilderness', and he was here to practice frontier medicine. I was furious..."

_Flashes of taunting...teasing...tears...warmth...mother...comfort_

***

The team who recovered what was left of the _Orinoco_ were sifting through the mess, trying to piece together what happened, and looking for the flight log. So far, they weren't having the best of luck.

"Damn it! I want to know what went wrong," O'Brien yelled, pacing around the metal heaps that used to be the _Orinoco_.

Sisko chose that moment to enter the cargo bay. "Anything yet Chief?"

O'Brien whirled, ready to bite yet another head off. He controlled himself when he saw who it was. "Commander. I'm sorry. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We're still trying to cut out the flight log."

"Where...?" Sisko asked as he stepped closer to the biggest pile of metal.

O'Brien nodded at the pile. "Somewhere in there. Frankly, I'm amazed that the Bajorans were able to get Julian out of there. He had to be pinned in on all sides."

"The luck of the Prophets," one of O'Brien's Bajoran assistants commented as she continued cutting into the hull.

"Or the luck of the Irish," O'Brien chimed in. "How're you coming with that, Lanaris?"

She pushed the shield mask off her face and jumped back, just as the four foot wide section fell away and crashed to the floor. "I'd say we're in, Chief," she said with a grin, just as Sisko's comm badge went off.

"OPS to Sisko." He tapped it, saying, "Sisko here."

"Commander, a freighter captain wishes to speak to you," Kira announced.

Sisko suppressed a sigh. "On my way." He glanced into the hole in the runabout, where Chief O'Brien's teams were already pulling equipment out of. "Keep me informed of any developments."

"Will do sir," O'Brien answered as he made his way into the runabout.

***

Dax stepped into the quiet Infirmary, a strange sense of calm surrounding her. She glanced around, not seeing any of Bashir's nurses or Doctor Lanall. She thought that was curious, as it was 0600. Spying the unoccupied chair next to Bashir, she sank down in it. She remained sitting in that position, hands folded primly on her lap, for an indiscernible amount of time. Slowly, one hand reached out and brushed his hair lightly, around the shaved area on his left side.

"His color is returning." Dax's head whipped around at the source of the voice.

"Doctor Lanall. I'm Jadzia Dax, science officer." She extended her hand, which Lanall shook warmly. "He's doing better then?"

Lanall shrugged slightly. "His internal injuries have all but healed. His replacement organs are functioning beautifully, and I've been able to remove the bandaging. But he still hasn't regained consciousness."

"What are his chances?" Dax asked, never one to put false hope above common sense.

Lanall crossed her arms, deep in thought. "His heartbeat is strong and steady; his brain activity has shown slight improvement, but not nearly enough. I have ruled out brain damage."

Dax nodded. "Then you believe we are doing some good. O'Brien and Kira," she elaborated.

Lanall nodded enthusiastically. "The body can heal itself, given time. But the mind has to tell it what to do. His mind has to come awake again."

"Just like Torias," Dax whispered, not even realizing she had said it out loud.

Lanall brought over another chair and sat down. "Who was Torias?" she asked quietly.

Dax's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "One of my hosts. He died in a shuttlecraft accident. He had only had the Dax symbiont for ten years." She offered a shaky smile. "He was so full of life. He would do anything, take any dare. Some said he was wild. I just thought he had a zest for life." She laughed lightly. "One time, he was racing a hovercraft against a Norsican. He taunted him until he was ready to rip his head off, then began the race. The Norsican was so furious, his concentration was shot, and Torias pulled ahead..."

_Flash of panic...all those eyes...the pressure...awarded second...disappointment_

***

Quark's was relatively quiet for a weekday. Traffic through the wormhole had slowed since news of the Jem'Hadar had spread throughout most of the galaxy. Which meant Quark had considerably less profit per hour, per day, per week. And he was complaining to Odo about it.

"I don't see what I can do about it, Quark. I can't make people come into your bar," Odo tried to reason with the Ferengi. He should have known better.

"Odo! This is a travesty of justice! I haven't had a holosuite customer in days. Don't you want the writers of those fine holosuite programs to get their rightful royalties?" Quark needled. He was getting desperate. His profits were down fifteen percent across the board. Another month like this, and he'd be washed up.

Odo harumped. "I doubt the writers have seen half the royalties they're entitled to, Quark." He looked around the bar, noting with distaste the gambling, drinking, and dubious transactions taking place. "You don't seem to be doing too bad, considering."

"Considering what?" Quark asked, waving his arms in exasperation.

"Considering, if I wanted to, I could take in half your remaining customers on one charge or another," Odo threatened nicely.

Quark got the hint. "I'll just leave you alone then, Odo, to do your job." With a grimace, Quark went to wait on Garak, who had just entered. "Ah, Mister Garak. I haven't seen you in here in quite awhile. I'd like to show you some new holosuite..."

"Quark," Garak cut him off with a glare, "I'm not here for entertainment. I'm not here for company. I'm here to get blind drunk. Think you can help with that?" he asked, his usual polite demeanor gone.

The little Ferengi took a step back. "Have a seat. What did you want to start with?"

Garak plopped down at a corner table. "Kanaar. T'Klar. I don't care. Something that will work quickly, and quite effectively," some of his affable charm resurfacing.

"Right away," Quark bowed slightly and hurried off. Garak didn't know what he was doing here. He wasn't even sure when he had decided. He still had a slight buzz from the three bottles of Kanaar last night, and here he was again, ready to continue where he had passed out. Eyeing the bottle and glass Quark had set in front of him, Garak took a deep breath and started to pour. A hand covered the glass.

"Constable. Do remove your hand. I'd hate to have to pour around your fingers," Garak threatened mildly.

"Garak. I haven't seen you here in quite awhile. Wasn't the last time when you and Doctor Bashir were having lunch two weeks ago?" Odo asked as he slid into the chair opposite Garak. He folded his hands on the table, allowing Garak to finish pouring his drink.

"Yes it was." Garak tried to ignore the Constable as he tossed back the glassful and poured another.

"I would have thought you'd be concerned about Doctor Bashir," Odo mused as he watched Garak toss back a second glassful.

The Cardassian brought the glass down with a loud band. "Constable. Surely you have someone else to bother. Perhaps Quark, or those Y'riddian over there," he suggested.

"But I wanted to talk to you," Odo said.

"About?" Garak asked none-to-happily. Glaring at the Changeling, Garak filled his glass again, draining it just as quickly.

"I was just wondering... what will you do now?"

Garak peered at him, his pale blue eyes beginning to glaze over. "Do? About what?" he asked, his speech a bit slurred.

"What will you do about lunch, now that Doctor Bashir isn't capable of having it with you." Odo watched as Garak rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Doctor Bashir and I will continue to have lunch, just as we always have," he stated rather loudly, loud enough for a few of Quark's customers to turn in their direction.

"Are you sure? You haven't been in to see him, have you?" Odo shot back, rising out of his chair. "You don't even know what condition he's in."

Garak gaped at him, his astonishment quickly turning to rage. "Don't presume to tell me what I know and don't know, Constable. I know exactly how Doctor Bashir is. And I know what his chances are. So if you'll excuse me," Garak snatched the bottle off the table, "I'll go somewhere quieter." He swayed a bit, wondering why that statement bothered him. Shrugging it off, he stalked to his quarters.

Stumbling inside, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Bottle of Kanaar tucked securely to his side, eyes a bit wild, he swallowed hard. He had imagined how he looked when Doctor Bashir had tried to get him out of Quark's, while he was suffering from his implant's breakdown. But he didn't think it could be as bad as he looked now. It certainly wasn't as bad as he felt. Now he remembered why his earlier statement had unnerved him. It was close to what Bashir had told him, trying to get him to go to the Infirmary. Swallowing hard again, Garak sank to his couch, remembering how the young Human had helped him; how he had been the only one who cared if he lived or died. Unbidden, the memories of his tirade, shouting those hateful words at the young doctor swam through his foggy mind. One lone tear caressed the eyeridge on his cheek.

***

Doctor Lanall settled down next to Bashir, taking his hand. "Doctor Bashir, I know you can hear me," she called softly. No response. That didn't discourage her, though. "Julian, I just wanted to remind you of all the friends you have here. Kira, the Chief, Dax, Odo, they've all been in to see you. A few races I've never seen before even came in to see how you were. And that bartender, Quark? He expressed his extreme displeasure at your lack of business. He'd like to see you return to his bar. So would everyone else. So would I." She glanced at the readouts; still unchanged, as they had been for the past three days.

"Julian, you realize I'm a very impatient person. I like my patients up and recovered within a week. You're not going to ruin my perfect record, are you?" she teased. Still no response.

Sighing, she brushed her fingers through his regenerated hair. "Julian, it's time to wake up."

_Flash of a planet's surface...ionic storm...begging for her to wake up...tears falling_

***

The fourth day, 1428.

Sisko looked down at his chief medical officer, not quite sure how he felt. Of course, he was upset that one of his crew had been injured. Of course, he was angry that the cause for the accident still hadn't been determined. Of course, he was concerned about him, but it went beyond simple commander-caring-for- his-officers. He _cared_ what happened to Bashir. He had grown fond of him over the past three years. His fresh, youthful way of looking at the universe reminded Sisko of how he used to view it. But for Bashir, it went further than the simple excitement of space. It went to the excitement of exploration, of understanding another culture, of learning about another species. Bashir was a student of the universe; Sisko was a teacher. But the more he learned about Bashir, the more time he spent with him, he began to realize a little of that student in himself again. He thought it lost; it was merely tucked safely away, waiting for the moment when he would be ready.

"Julian, you don't know what you've given me," Sisko whispered to the unconscious young man. All the instruments and bandages had been removed; Bashir just looked like he was sleeping. So much so, that Sisko actually thought those big brown eyes would open and Bashir would jump out of bed, ready for duty. He sighed. Doctor Lanall had said talking to Bashir would make a difference. His thoughts were a jumble; he didn't know where to begin. A wry smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

"Julian, this was a hell of a way to get an extended vacation. You could have just asked." His smile faded to a frown. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I know I've teased you now and again; so have Dax and O'Brien. You're just... you're always in a good mood. You're the only one of us who is  _ever_ in a good mood, it seems sometimes. You may not know it, but you provide an invaluable service to us here, Julian. You give us perspective; get us to step back from our duties and appreciate the simple humor in any situation. Well, almost any situation," Sisko added dryly, thinking of the Dominion. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind - only positive thoughts, he instructed himself.

"Where was I? Oh yes, the teasing. Julian, we only rib you because we know you can take it. But when you came to me, asking for a vacation, I did notice something was wrong. But you are usually the one to ask what's wrong, and offer advise. I assumed you knew you could come to me about anything." Sisko paused, leaning closer to Bashir. "You can come to me, whenever you need to talk. I don't care what time, day or night. I won't ever dismiss you. Not like I did when you first arrived, and you were proclaiming Garak a spy. I understand now why you were so eager to please; why you came across as you did. We were all just too jaded to appreciate you."

_Flash of Father...disappointment...flashes of Sisko...warmth...pride...acceptance_

Sisko rested his forehead on his fists, fighting his fatigue. He nearly hit the ceiling at the light touch on his arm.

"Commander, I hope I'm not intruding," Garak blinked quickly, his concern evident even in the dim lighting.

Sisko gave him a hard look, then smiled softly. "Not at all Garak." He indicated the extra chair. "Please, have a seat. I was just talking to Julian."

"Why would you do that?" Garak asked as he sank automatically into the chair. He felt like he had been running on automatic, from his decision to see Julian to his actually getting to the Infirmary. Garak certainly couldn't recall how he had arrived there. He just found himself in the doorway, listening to Sisko's soothing baritone voice, not quite catching the words, but their meaning was quite clear.

Sisko's brow creased in confusion. "Doctor Lanall said that talking to comatose patients sometimes helps them recover. Didn't she tell you when you saw Julian earlier...?"

"Commander," Garak broke in softly. "This is the first time I've seen Doctor Bashir since the accident. I...couldn't bring myself to come here," he admitted, staring down at his hands.

Sisko regarded him thoughtfully. He hadn't ever seen the Cardassian this pensive. "What changed your mind?" he asked quietly.

Garak's head snapped up, then he glanced away. "I don't really know. I knew about our young friend's accident; knew the extent of his injuries. I just couldn't bring myself to see him in this condition." He glanced in Bashir's general direction, then back down at his hands quickly. Sisko's hand on his shoulder startled him.

"Garak, no one likes to see friends in this condition. That's why we're doing everything in our power to help him. Doctor Lanall believes we're helping Julian; so do I." Sisko offered the Cardassian a small smile. "Maybe you could tell him a story. You seem to have a knack for it."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Garak's face. "Yes. It has been brought up on more than one occasion in our luncheons together," he admitted. He glanced again to Bashir on the biobed, his expression turning thoughtful. "Commander, I hope you don't think me rude, but could you give me a few moments alone with Doctor Bashir?"

Sisko nodded. "Take as much time as you like, Garak. I'm sure Julian would like to hear from you, too." With a slight nod and a final pat on the shoulder, Sisko left the Cardassian sitting with Bashir.

For what seemed to Garak to be an eternity, he continued to sit, not saying a word. He just looked at Bashir; watched the diagnostics above his head change ever so slightly with his breathing and heartbeat, taking some comfort that most of the readouts were still in Cardassian. Maybe Bashir was learning to read it. When Garak gave Bashir literature, he didn't bother to translate it, and it never occurred to him to ask if he did or simply stumbled through the Cardassian. He would have to remember the next time they had lunch... _but you won't have lunch anymore_ whispered through Garak's head. He shook that thought aside.

"Doctor." Garak's voice sounded strange in the quiet of the Infirmary. It seemed so...small. "Doctor," he said again, quieter this time. "This really will not do. You must wake up, now." Garak folded his hands, fully expecting Doctor Bashir to obey him. When he didn't, his false sense of bravado failed him. He knew this was a mistake. He started to get up.

 _Talk to him_ , Sisko's voice echoed in his mind. Garak sat back down, wondering if he was losing his mind. No, he was losing a friend. His only friend, if he were honest with himself. That thought almost caused him to laugh out loud. He hadn't been honest all his life; he certainly wasn't going to start now. He looked again at Bashir's sallow complexion, his steady breathing. What was he supposed to talk about?

 _Say what you came here to say_ , a voice, his voice, prodded. Lying a shaky hand on top of Bashir's, Garak whispered, "My dear doctor. I don't know where to begin. You've been a friend; confidant, for almost three years now. You are the only enjoyable thing for me on this station. Your company means..." Garak broke off, unable to continue through the lump in his throat. Taking a few steadying breaths, he continued. "I owe you something, doctor. An apology. For the way I've been treating you. For all the times I teased you; for all the misinformation I fed you. I apologize for not telling you the truth. You see, I don't even know what the truth is anymore. That's why I can't tell you. I've forgotten it." He continued to speak, keeping his eyes on his hand on top of the doctor's, noticing, perhaps for the first time, just how different they really were.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he continued, "And I'm so dreadfully sorry for the way I behaved toward you when I went through my withdrawals. You stood by me, stayed with me, when no one else cared whether I lived or died. Despite everything I said to you, you still saved me. Thank you, my friend. Julian." Silence descended.

_Flashes of the station...Garak and a story...children escaping, Elim plotting against him...need to know...someone forgives me_

Garak cleared his throat, gathering himself. He physically as well as emotionally withdrew from Bashir, once again folding his hands in his lap. "Doctor, I'm not sure what good this is doing. We don't do this sort of thing on Cardassia. We're made of much sterner stuff, as I've no doubt told you before. We either survive, or we don't. We either crack our skulls open, or we simply walk away. This isn't right." He stopped, noticing the catch was back in his voice. He glanced again to Bashir's readouts, his hands clenching into a white blob as his voice gained strength. "This isn't right. You shouldn't have been hurt. You shouldn't be in a coma. And you certainly shouldn't have to listen to an old fool rattle on like this," Garak mused with self depreciation, his anger deflating as fast as it had flared into existence. He rubbed his face, leaving one hand covering his eyes.

_Flash of Jadzia in the Infirmary...flash of Garak in the Infirmary...both of them, needing him...hand reaching out_

Garak's slightly muffled voice was soft as he confessed to his only friend those things he hadn't been able to accept about himself before. "And I was a fool. I believed those who offered me a way back to Cardassia. I believed in Tain, who was willing to overlook my transgressions. I believed everyone, but you. All you said was, 'I hope you know what you're doing,' but it came back to me as I pleaded with Tain, trying to get him off that Romulan ship. I realized I was in way over my head. Tain wouldn't listen to reason. He was beyond reason. He seemed oblivious to the ship; to everyone; to me. He sat in the captain's chair, babbling on about how he should have been more careful, rambling about the old days. He refused to believe that it was over; that he had lost."

"Nero fiddling while Rome burned," a very weak voice whispered.

Garak's head snapped up, ignoring the stab of pain in his neck as he did so. "Julian!" He didn't notice any change; Bashir's eyes were still closed, his breathing steady. Then his eyes fell to Bashir's hand. His forearm was halfway in the air, his fingers closing on empty air, opening again. Garak placed his hand in Bashir's hesitantly.

The gentlest pressure touched his fingers. A squeeze. A sign of reassurance. "Garak," Bashir whispered, "That's you, isn't it?"

Garak nearly shouted, if he hadn't been immobilized at Bashir's awakening. "Ye - Yes. It's Garak." He returned the pressure to Bashir's hand, giving him reassurance in return. "It's good to see you again, my friend."

Bashir opened his eyes slowly, focusing with care on the Cardassian next to him. A very tentative smile formed on his lips. "Garak. I thought I was dreaming. What's happened?"

Garak's smile was genuine, brilliantly blinding. "I'm going to let Doctor Lanall explain just what happened to you. But I will tell you that you were in an accident, and you're recovering. How do you feel?" he asked, concern filling his pale blue eyes.

A bit of the old twinkle surfaced in Bashir's toffee colored eyes. "Like I need a nice, long vacation."

Garak's laughter rang out in the still Infirmary.

***

"Well, how is my patient feeling?" Doctor Lanall asked as she strode briskly into the Infirmary, followed closely by Sisko, Kira, O'Brien, and Dax, all smiling broadly, with Odo bringing up the rear.

Garak rose out of his chair, whispering to Bashir as he did so. Bashir nodded, a brief smile flashing before Garak turned on his heel, nodding politely to Sisko as he passed him on his way out.

Bashir watched Garak leave, then flicked his eyes over the caravan around his biobed, his expression unreadable. He pulled his attention away from his fellow officers and focused on the Bajoran woman who had asked the question. "I think I'm okay. I take it my leg was broken?" he asked, indicating the left one.

Lanall nodded, pushing a stray hair out of her eyes. "Yes. Your runabout crashed in the Piratus Mountain range on Bajor. Your injuries were severe, and Commander Sisko was kind enough to allow me to use the Defiant's sickbay."

Bashir's eyebrows raised, glancing from Lanall to Sisko. "My injuries were that bad? What on earth happened to me?" He started to sit up, but inhaled sharply and fell back, his lips pursed.

Lanall sighed, "Doctors," shrugging at the gathered audience. She scolded Bashir lightly, "Don't try to move around too much. I had to reinflate your right lung, and your ribcage isn't up to full strength yet." She smiled wryly. "You just came out of a coma. I'll show you your report as soon as your rested."

"Hasn't he been resting enough?" Dax asked with a smile.

A range of emotions crossed Bashir's face. Irritation, though, won out. "No, I haven't. And I'd appreciate it if you would all leave me alone." He turned his face away from his friends, his expression now sullen.

Surprised shock colored Dax' face. She exchanged looks with Kira and O'Brien, all of them startled by the hostility in Bashir's voice.

Similar disbelief flashed momentarily in Sisko's eyes, but then he understood. Bashir didn't understand what had happened to him yet. He certainly couldn't know about  _his_ change of heart. "Let's leave him alone for the time being. He just woke up; let him recover for a bit. Dax?" Sisko touched her arm lightly.

She whirled to face him, her expression worried. "I'm coming." With one last look back at Bashir, Dax allowed herself to be steered out of the Infirmary, the entourage in tow.

Lanall clucked her tongue. "Not a nice way to treat your friends," she commented lightly.

Bashir glanced sharply at her. "No, it's not," he agreed. "Especially after he just came out of a coma."

One eyebrow inclined. Lanall asked gently, "I take it this has happened before then?"

Bashir shot her a questioning look. "What do you...? Oh. Well, the reason I went on vacation was to get away from the constant teasing. I thought I had myself under control. I thought I had accepted it. I guess I was wrong," he replied sourly.

Lanall bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Her patient didn't care that he just came out of a coma and a life-threatening crash. He didn't understand what had happened to his fellow officers as they watched over him. "Doctor Bashir..."

"Julian," he snapped.

She patiently tried again. "Julian," she emphasized his name. "Here is the report on your accident, as well as your injuries. I'm sure Commander Sisko will want a full report from you, as soon as you're able. I'm going to remain on DS9 until you are fit for duty."

Bashir's eyes narrowed as he regarded her warily. "How long?"

Lanall consulted the padd. "I'd say a good two weeks. Your entire chest cavity was crushed by the impact. Your lungs were full of blood. I had to mend nearly half the bones in your body. I can't tell you how much trouble I had keeping you stabilized. Your body has undergone a severe shock; that's why I labeled yours a trauma induced coma." She handed him the padd.

Bashir nodded slowly as his eyes traversed his medical report. "You didn't have any problems with the organ replacements? No rejection?" he asked, tapping back to read a section again.

"None." Lanall sat down in the chair, deciding that Bashir was ready for non-threatening company. "I was pleasantly surprised. I had to review Human physiology before performing surgery. I'm afraid our small Infirmary on Bajor wasn't up-to-date."

Bashir raised his eyes to look at her, suitably impressed. "You had to learn Human physiology first? You did this in less than five hours?" he asked incredulously.

Lanall shrugged modestly. "I had to. You were going to die without the surgery. I didn't even know that until Kira sent down the medical database. Without her help, you wouldn't be here."

"I suppose so," Bashir mused, going through his file again. He was still in a mild state of shock, reading through his injuries. "Tell me, how did you get me out of the runabout?" he asked distractedly.

Lanall shrugged again. "I don't know. I only know that four Vedeks carried you into the Monastery, and then I was summoned from the nearby village. What did you find that's so fascinating?" she asked, finally too curious as to what Bashir was looking at.

"Hm? Oh, I was reviewing your initial techniques. You did remarkably well for not knowing anything about my physiology," he commented, scrolling back down to a particular paragraph. "Remarkably well," he repeated with admiration, glancing up. She was blushing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you..." he began, but her laughter confused him to silence.

She shook her head, smiling. "You didn't embarrass me. I'm just stunned that someone appreciates my work. I'm not exactly known as the world's nicest healer. I'm very brash; I don't take anything from anyone. I wasn't exactly tactful announcing your condition to your fellow officers. I'm surprised your commander allowed me to use the sickbay on the Defiant, after I choked on my own words."

Bashir's brow creased, then smoothed as he understood. "We say, 'I stuck my foot in my mouth.' Actually, I say it more than anyone. I do that quite a bit," he admitted ruefully.

Lanall crossed her arms, studying the Human in front of her. He certainly was strange. Complimenting her skills one minute, stammering over his own tongue the next. He reminded her of herself, painfully so. She cleared her throat. "Well Julian, I'd say you better get some rest," she suggested mildly. "No arguments," she chided, sensing Bashir's protest.

He sighed lightly, afraid of straining the synth skin on his chest. "Yes doctor. Lanall, right?" he asked as he tried to get comfortable on the biobed. He hated these beds.

She nodded. "Anasta. And quit fidgeting. You're likely to rip that synth skin, and I don't want to spend my valuable time repairing it." She smiled at his shocked expression. "I warned you about my bedside manner. I'm terrible at it." She patted his shoulder, then called for night setting again. "Good night, Julian."

"Good night," Bashir echoed quietly, closing his eyes.

***

"Julian?" A soft, feminine voice. Bashir smiled, not ready to wake up yet.

"Julian, are you awake?" The voice wasn't in his dream. He opened his eyes to find Leeta sitting next to his bed.

"Leeta, what are you doing here?" he asked, fighting back a yawn. He wondered what time it was.

She smiled, a bit uncertain. "I came to see you. Quark wouldn't let me off earlier, but I told him I was going to see you, whether he liked it or not."

Bashir immediately felt contrite. "I'm sorry. A close brush with death wreaks havoc on your tact." He took her hand, squeezing gently. "I hope you didn't get in too much trouble with Quark." A slow smile curved his mouth as her other hand covered his.

A brilliant smile lit her face. "Oh, no. The worst he'll do is dock my pay. He's done it often enough, but I don't care. I wasn't going to let you think I'd forgotten about you," she said, her voice low and sultry as she leaned close to him.

A flush crept along Bashir's cheekbones. "Um, Leeta, I really don't think I'm quite ready for this," he protested weakly as her hand slid up his chest.

Her eyes sparkled. "I know. I just don't want you forgetting me," she purred in his ear, kissing the earlobe.

Bashir shivered as her breath caressed his ear. "There's no way I could forget you," he murmured, his eyes closing slowly.

The sound of a throat clearing sent Leeta jumping back guiltily. "I'll see you later Julian," she promised, brushing his lips quickly before rushing past Odo to the door.

Odo watched her leave, then turned back to Bashir, shaking his head slightly. "Barely recovered and already back at it, eh doctor?" he commented.

Bashir's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Constable, if that's what you came in here for, you can leave."

Odo was nonplused by Bashir's attitude. "That's not why I came here. I wanted to get a full report on what happened aboard the _Orinoco_ ; in fact, your entire trip. I want to rule out the possibility of sabotage."

Bashir gave a short laugh. "Who would want to sabotage a runabout with me aboard? I'm nobody important," he brushed it off. "Something just malfunctioned in the attitude control, then the navigation array, then..." his voice broke off as he tried to recall faint, disjointed memories.

Odo handed him a padd. "Doctor, if you'll just put everything down that you can remember, it would be much appreciated. I have to help Chief O'Brien with dismantling the _Orinoco_." He turned on his heel to leave, then glanced back at Bashir. "And Doctor, I'm glad you're all right," he added gruffly.

As he left the Infirmary, he missed Bashir's look of astonishment.

***

Sisko walked around his senior staff, minus Bashir, in the wardroom. "The reason I've called you all here is because of Doctor Bashir." He paused, his glance passing across each before continuing. "Did any of you notice any strange behavior from him before his trip?" The question startled everyone. They had been anticipating something about his earlier behavior towards Dax.

O'Brien piped up, "Not really. He seemed perfectly fine when we were playing darts. Until Leeta showed up," he added under his breath.

Sisko rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Did he say anything to you?"

O'Brien blinked, trying to think. "No, just the usual bantering, trying to distract each other. It's a common technique in darts," he huffed, ignoring the stares he got.

"He didn't say anything strange? Out of place?" Sisko prodded, stopping behind his chief of operations.

"No sir," O'Brien responded, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"What is it Chief?" Sisko asked, noticing his fidgeting.

"I didn't want to mention it, but Julian did seem a bit testy when I brought up Leeta. Especially when I teased him about her being a Dabo girl. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added hastily. "It's just that I asked him if she wasn't a bit below him, that's all."

Sisko nodded thoughtfully. "Dax, what about you? Has Julian seemed out of sorts lately?"

Dax took a breath, thinking back. "Well, he's been short-tempered a bit, on occasion," she was quick to add. "He has seemed a bit moody lately."

"I'll say," Odo interjected. "I went to the Infirmary to get his statement. I walked in on him and Leeta having a...discussion," he supplied with a hint of disgust. "I made a comment to the fact that he seemed to be recovering quickly, and his tone suggested he was highly aggrieved. He told me if that was all I had come there for, I could leave."

"I see." Sisko regarded his staff. "Kira, have you noticed anything unusual about Julian lately?"

"Yeah," she snorted. "He can't take a joke anymore. I was having dinner with him the week before he left. I don't even remember what we were discussing, but he nearly bit my head off."

"Try to remember. What were you talking about?" Sisko asked.

Kira closed her eyes. "Something about tennis, I don't know. I think I teased him about being off his game." She opened her eyes, shrugging slightly. "It wasn't that big a deal, but I remember he nearly stormed away from the table."

"Come to think of it," Dax chimed in, "He has been acting strange lately. Whenever I mention something about his wandering eye, or rib him about something, he walks away. Benjamin, what is this about?" she turned to her old friend.

Sisko sat down, resting his hands on the table. "I haven't told you my observations yet. When Julian came to ask for his vacation, he was tense. When I tried to joke about taking Leeta along, he snapped at me. And when I suggested that he better not have such a good time that he didn't want to return...well, let's just say I'm glad he wasn't carrying a phaser."

"Commander, are you suggesting Bashir is becoming violent?" Odo asked. All eyes turned to him.

Sisko silently wondered about his Chief of Security's lack of understanding of Human humor. "No, Constable. I'm afraid we've all been insensitive to Julian's moods lately. I think that he's tired of being not taken seriously. It's all we've been doing to him since he arrived. I'm guilty of it as well, especially when it came to his friendship with Garak. But, since I spent some time with him back on Earth," he ignored Dax's withering glare, "I've gotten to know him. And I know he's a bit to sensitive for his own good. We rib him because it's so easy; but we forget, he has feelings too. And he's too sensitive to tell anyone it's bothering him."

"So what do we do?" Kira asked.

"Start paying more attention to him," Sisko suggested lightly.

***

Leeta had come to see him twice more, despite Bashir's protests that she could lose her job. He enjoyed her company, but he wondered at Dax's and O'Brien's visits. They had been polite, but a bit reserved, especially Dax. It was like they had changed their personalities. It was nice to have a conversation with Dax without her teasing him, but some small part of himself missed it. O'Brien had only been a little less his jolly self, much to Bashir's relief. They had caught up on the latest happenings at Quark's, and O'Brien's latest darts victory over a member of the D'Laak delegation. All in all, satisfying visits, but Bashir was still by himself most of the time, so he just  _thought_. Thought about how it would have felt winning the Carrington; how he had to visit the colony on Bajor VI for their monthly check-ups; how he and Leeta would spend the rest of his recovery period. He gave serious thought to the file Lanall had left with him. A rare flu strain was ravaging her village, and none of the usual antibodies were effective. It was a puzzle, and there was nothing he liked better than a puzzle.

There wasn't a whole lot else Lanall would let him do  _besides_ think. She had ordered him to bed, and was strictly enforcing that rule. Even Bashir's own nurse, Sedi, had given him a cold glare and gently pushed him back toward the biobed when she had caught him sneaking into his office. He couldn't help it. He was bored; he needed something to do, some interesting conversation. He suddenly missed Garak terribly. Since waking up to find Garak there, Bashir hadn't seen him. He thought the tailor might have been embarrassed, but he had promised he would return later. Well, that was two days ago, and Bashir was starting to get angry.

"Julian?"

A bright smile flashed its way across Bashir's features. "Leeta. I thought I told you to go to work," he admonished with twinkling eyes. He held out his hand to her.

"Oh, I couldn't let you sit in here all by yourself, now could I?" she said, as always her voice low and sultry. It was the only way she knew how to speak, and Bashir loved it. She sauntered over to him, taking his hand and squeezing gently.

He kissed her hand lightly. "You know I don't want you getting in trouble," he tried to give her a stern look, "but I do love your visits," his face softened in a knowing smile.

She smiled wryly. "You'd enjoy a visit from a Norsican at this point. I know you're bored in here. Can't you get Lanall to let you return to your quarters?"

He grimaced. "Not likely. Sedi caught me trying to sneak into my office yesterday. I'm starting to go stir crazy," he gave her a comical look.

Her bright, tinkling laughter was contagious, though Bashir held his chest as he tried to stop laughing. "I can't. Might rip... still hurts a bit," he gasped, quieting his breathing.

Leeta brushed back the hair off his forehead. "I'm sorry, Julian. I didn't mean to make it worse."

"You didn't. You're making my stay here better, don't you know that?" he whispered tenderly, stroking her cheek with a fingertip. "Besides, we're getting plenty of time to know one another, aren't we?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "I knew you played racquetball, but I didn't realize you played tennis. I used to play Springball when I was still on Bajor."

"You like sports? Or just Springball?" Bashir asked, tilting his head slightly, fixing her with his large eyes.

Leeta inhaled sharply at his expression. She loved the way he looked at her. She managed to answer, "I do like Springball. I'm just not into sports games."

"I saw you playing darts with the Chief," Bashir reminded her with a smile.

She shrugged a smooth shoulder. "Force of habit. I used to play when I was growing up. My brothers and I were the best in our village," she said softly.

Bashir picked up her mood; he guessed her brothers were killed during the Occupation. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" she puzzled.

Bashir stuttered, rather stupidly, "We- Well, didn't your brothers...die during the Occupation?"

Leeta's abrupt change in attitude startled him. She started to laugh again, her face animated. "No, they didn't die! They just beat me all the time! I was very fortunate; we were left relatively alone, so far into the mountains."

Bashir stared at her, feeling stupid. Here he thought he was starting to be able to guess Leeta's moods, and he had completely misread her. But he squashed his feelings and concentrated on what she had revealed about herself. "You escaped much of the Occupation? Where exactly did you live?"

She began telling him of her village, her childhood, and her family. Bashir settled back, letting her life wash over him. It was so good to hear about someone else's life for a change.

Lanall stopped, listening outside the door to the patient's room. She heard the voice again, low and sultry, and crushed the stab of jealousy before it started. Bashir was a patient.  _Her_ patient. Never mind that he reminded her of herself, that he was a brilliant man. A patient he was, and a patient he would be for at least another week and a half. Lanall sighed dejectedly, exiting the Infirmary without saying hello to her patient.

***

"Hello Anasta," Bashir said brightly as Lanall entered his quarters.

"GET back in that bed." Lanall pointed to it for emphasis. "Julian, you were ordered to stay in bed for a week. That is not bed. That is a chair, and that is a computer. What are you doing?"

Ignoring her protests, Bashir waved her over. "Anasta, come look at this. I was thinking about your village's problem with that rare strain of flu. I got to thinking...what if the virus mutated into something completely different here, but was known somewhere else? So I did some checking with the Federation databases, and found this," he pointed to the cross-referenced files on the display. "Here you have what your virus mutated into. Here is a virus that broke out on Betazed nearly four hundred years ago."

Lanall leaned closer, no longer mad at Bashir for disobeying her orders. If he had found the cure for the flu... "Julian, that's it!" she cried. Before either one of them knew what she was doing, Lanall had her arms around his shoulders in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "This flu has been killing people in my village faster than we can bury them. I'll synth some of the antibody, and send it down on the next shuttle. No, I'll send the file down to Giavon; he'll know how to replicate the antidote." She released Bashir and paced around his quarters. "No, I'll go myself. I don't trust Edi to do it right. He'll mess something up." She continued to mumble to herself, oblivious to Bashir's intense gaze.

He went ahead and sent the file down to her village, since it looked like she would debate with herself on what to do for awhile. "Anasta, why don't you relax. I've already sent the formula down to your village; it's okay."

She spun to him, her face anguished. "You didn't! Oh, now they're bound to mess it up. I have to go down there," she decided suddenly.

"Wait," Bashir cried before she made it to the door.

"What? I have to get down there. I have to help my people," she insisted. "Don't say it; I know Giavon is entirely capable of synthing the antibody himself. I just feel as if I have to be there. Don't you understand? It's not pride; it's personal."

Bashir quirked an eyebrow at her, a faint smile of amusement teasing the corner of his mouth. "I was only going to tell you to get a copy of the file to take with you. At the speed you were going, I was afraid you would leave without it." The two doctors looked at one another, then burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry. I warned you, I always..."

"Choke on my own words, yes, I know," Bashir grinned. "Go on. I'm perfectly fine. I'm certainly capable of watching the station while you're gone. I've been doing it for three years, after all."

Lanall rolled her eyes at him. "Don't you start doing it too."

"Doing what?" Bashir inquired innocently, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the innocence of the question.

"You are developing a wicked sense of humor, and one doctor on this station with that affliction is enough. Or do you want me to tell Commander Sisko that you disobeyed my orders again?" she threatened mildly with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll try to control myself," Bashir commented dryly, grinning.

Lanall grinned back. "Good. Take it easy; don't do any more work than absolutely necessary; only emergencies, understand?"

A patient sigh escaped his lips. "Yes ma'am."

She smiled warmly at him. "Good-bye Julian."

"Take care of yourself," Bashir answered, watching her leave.

***

"I have the data from the runabout, commander," O'Brien announced.

All eyes turned to him. "Well?" Sisko prompted.

O'Brien tossed the padds to the tabletop in the middle of OPS. "Nothing. A wiring malfunction, nothing more. Maybe some animals chewed on it, or something," he shrugged. "But no evidence that anything was tampered with or pilot error. The systems just...stopped working."

Everyone in OPS seemed to sag a bit. "Thank you Chief. I've requested another runabout be sent here, but there's no telling when it'll get here." He straightened, looking over his crew. "I'll tell Julian."

***

"Come in," Bashir called in answer to the doorchime. "Commander," he said with surprise. He started to rise, but Sisko waved him off.

"Don't get up. I just wanted to tell you that we've finally recovered the flight log from the _Orinoco_. No evidence of sabotage or pilot error," he said with a trace of regret. He still didn't want to believe that this just  _happened_.

Bashir smiled, much to his amazement. "Commander, I could have told you that it was just a malfunction of some kind."

"But it wasn't a malfunction," Sisko protested quietly. "Absolutely nothing showed up. The ship just stopped working."

Bashir merely shrugged. "I don't particularly care if it was intentional or not. I'm just glad I'm alive, sir."

Sisko berated himself. "Of course. We're all glad you're back. And weren't you supposed to take it easy?" he threatened mildly, raising his eyebrows at the padd in Bashir's hand.

Bashir flushed guiltily. "I was just checking the progress of my patients," he protested weakly.

"Does that include yourself?" Sisko asked with a smile.

"Um," Bashir flushed deeper, "Sedi's supposed to come by later to check on me."

"Good. I want you back on duty as soon as possible, but," he held up a finger, "Not until you are well."

"Yes, sir," Bashir sighed.

With a short nod, Sisko left Bashir's quarters with a smile.

***

"Go 'way," Bashir mumbled at whoever had bothered him. He was lying on his couch, where he had been for the past week. He knew he was better; he felt better. But he had remained in his quarters, locked away from the world anyway.

"Julian?" the soft voice called through the door. Leeta.

Bashir stifled a sigh. He thought he liked Leeta's company. He DID like Leeta's company. But lately, it wasn't enough. He felt there was something missing, something  _else_ that he wanted, but he didn't know what it was. And it was frustrating him to no end.

"Julian?" Leeta called a bit more forcefully, with growing concern.

Closing his eyes and counting to three, Bashir went to thumb open his door. "Leeta, I..."

She made a move to walk past him, but he blocked her path. "Julian, don't scare me like that again. I thought something had happened to you." She looked hurt.

Bashir stifled another sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling very well today. It's nothing," he added hastily, seeing the way her eyes widened, "I'm just tired, is all. Nothing to worry about. I just need to get my strength back."

Leeta studied his face for a minute before nodding. "I know you're still recovering. I'll...I'll leave you alone."

Watching her face fall, her shoulders slump, Bashir felt like a heel. "Leeta, this is nothing against you. I've just been through a great ordeal I need some time to adjust, that's all." He smiled softly at her, placing one hand on her shoulder. "I'll see you later, okay?"

She didn't look very happy about it, but relented. "Okay. Take care of yourself, Julian." She kissed him quickly before heading down the habitat ring.

Bashir watched her go with a sour stomach. He knew he had flat out lied to her, something that went totally against his nature. Then why had he done it? Finally allowing the sigh its release, Bashir made his way back over to his couch, where he contemplated just what it was he wanted.

***

Several hours later, Bashir was still no closer to an answer. He had fallen asleep, dreaming pleasantly of someone. But he didn't know who it was. It was disturbing, and he got the nagging feeling he knew who it was, but he couldn't see her face. Chalking it up to fatigue, stress, and general outofshapeness, he pushed it aside and concentrated on the evening ahead. Dax had planned one of her infamous parties for when Bashir was up to it.

And the first thing Lanall did upon returning to the station was to declare Bashir up to it.

"So glad she knows what's good for me better than myself," he muttered to himself as he showered and changed. Blindly selecting the first outfit that brushed his fingers, he slipped it on, his mind dwelling back to Lanall's suggestion no, order that he attend the party.

"'It will be good for you,' she said. 'It will be very therapeutic,' she said. Hah! She doesn't know Dax," Bashir rattled on to himself, tugging at his unruly hair. Sudden inspiration caused him to stop his movements. "I'll be sick. I'll just claim I'm not feeling up to it, and leave early."

"I don't think so, Julian."

He whipped around, his eyes blazing. "It's still customary to ask for admittance to personal quarters," he snapped at Lanall, who was leaning against the doorjamb to his bedroom.

"It is, but since I haven't been using it anyway, I don't see why it matters now," Lanall rationalized, crossing her arms. "And what's this I hear about you suddenly getting sick at the party?" she looked down her Bajoran nose at him.

Bashir's anger deflated, and he lowered his eyes guiltily. "I don't feel like going, Anasta. I don't want to be around a large crowd right now."

Lanall studied the Human in front of her, shaking her head slightly. "Julian, you can't hide out in here forever. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face her."

Bashir's head jerked up with an audible snap. "Face who?" he demanded, his large brown eyes narrowing.

Lanall bit her lower lip, knowing she had gone too far, but maybe it was what her patient needed. "Leeta. I've been noticing Leeta spends most of her time alone. I heard you two were involved before the accident. Something change?"

"No," Bashir snapped too hastily, spinning away from Lanall. "Nothing's changed," he insisted. "I just haven't been feeling well."

Lanall walked around Bashir to face him. "All my instruments tell me you are fine. So do these," she pointed to her grey eyes. "So I'd like to know why you're avoiding her."

"I am not avoiding her," Bashir insisted stubbornly. He folded his arms across his slim chest, staring Lanall down. "And I'll thank you to stay out of my private life."

Lanall's eyes flashed fire. "Fine. If you don't want me here, I'm gone. I'll be on the morning shuttle to Bajor. Goodbye, DOCTOR Bashir." She turned on her heel to leave.

Sudden, unformed panic gripped Bashir as he watched her storm away. His hand shot out to grab her arm. "Don't walk away from me, Anasta! I never said you had to leave. I just want you to stop being so nosy about matters that are no concern of yours." Doctor stared down doctor, both angry and upset. Bashir released his hold on Lanall; she remained where she was.

" _You_ are a matter of concern for me, Julian. You're my patient; something's bothering you. I just want to help you. If that is being nosy, well then, I apologize," she stated stiffly and formally.

Most of Bashir's anger deflated, a wry smile forcing its way to his lips. "Another case of choking on your own words?"

"Maybe." She tried to hold on to her anger, but it was impossible. Not in the presence of that smile. "Maybe not." Bashir tilted his head quizzically at her, but she refused to elaborate. "Now, how about that party. You ready?"

"I guess so." He offered her his arm. "Would you do me the honor?"

Trying to hold back a grin, Lanall accepted, and the two doctors made their way to the ward room. On the way there, Bashir got the strangest feeling that he had just been shanghaied.

"Hey, I said I didn't want to go to this party," he protested halfheartedly.

Lanall smiled coyly at him. "Doctor's orders. Either you go to the party, or you go to the Infirmary, your choice."

Bashir smiled gamely. "It's time to party," he sighed. "I don't ever want to be a patient again."

***

Lanall ended up staying on DS9 for a full month. Not that Doctor Bashir was having problems, on the contrary, after Dax's party, he seemed a lot more like his old self. And he steadily improved on that, until he was declared ready to return to duty.

"Gods, does it feel good to be back," Bashir announced, taking in the familiar smells and sounds of the Infirmary. His Infirmary. He ran his fingers along the beds, the instruments, feeling like he had come home.

"I take it you're ready to resume your duties, doctor?" Sisko asked with a broad smile as he walked over to Bashir.

Bashir's grin said better than the words, "More than ready, sir."

"Good." Sisko clapped him gently on the back. "I don't know if I ever said this, but it's good to have you back, Julian." Bashir didn't seem to know what to say. Sisko understood, and let the young man off the hook. "I'll be in OPS if you need me."

Bashir merely nodded, too stunned to make his vocal cords function. Shaking his head slightly as if to clear Sisko's strange conversation from his memory, he thumbed open the doors to his office and slipped inside. It was dark; Bashir left the lights off for now. Letting his eyes adjust, he reacquainted himself with the shapes, the figures that he had missed for the past month. Instinctively finding his way to his chair, he sank down in it, for once reveling in it's uncomfortableness. He called for low lights, enabling him to see his terminal. He accessed his files, and was surprised to find a message from Lanall.

"Julian, if you are reading this, then you must be back on duty. Congratulations. I knew you could do it." Her eyes twinkled with merriment. "I just wanted to wish you a happy return to your work, and say that it was a pleasure working for, and with, you. Talk to you soon."

Her image remained frozen, Bashir's finger remained on the pause button. Something was oddly familiar about her. Something that tingled at the back of his mind, but he didn't know what. A memory? No. A vague recollection? Maybe. Shrugging, he tried to ignore the nagging feeling. But it persisted throughout most of the day.

***

"Good to see you back in action, Julian," Dax commented as she strolled into the Infirmary.

"Good to be back in action, Jadzia," Bashir swiveled to face her, flashing a quick smile before turning back to the monitor in front of him.

"Don't tell me you found something to do already," she chided him softly, perching on the desk next to the terminal.

Bashir shot her a sideways glance. "No, this is my own research. Actually, Anasta's research. She just sent me the first results from the antibody. It appears to be working."

Dax shook her head. "Just take it easy, Julian. Don't overextend yourself."

Bashir rolled his eyes. "Yes mother."

She punched him lightly on the arm. "Respect your elders, young man."

Bashir flinched, a subtle move that Dax missed. "I always have," he commented lightly.

Dax didn't miss his change in tone. "Julian, did I say something wrong?" she asked quietly.

Bashir bit his lip, not sure what to tell her. She didn't look upset, so he went with gut instinct. "Jadzia, I'm thirty years old. Even in your culture, that's considered a mature adult. I think I've outgrown the 'young man'." He held his breath, waiting to see her reaction.

"You're right." She graced him with a full blown Dax smile. "I guess I've been treating you and everyone else a bit like a child. I'm sorry. Part of being a Joined Trill."

Bashir smiled with relief. "Thank you for understanding, Jadzia."

"Any time, Julian." Her expression turned coy. "So, you and Doctor Lanall spent a lot of time together at the party," she said conversationally.

Bashir missed whatever she was hinting at. "Yes, well...what I didn't tell you about that party was, I was coerced into going. But I ended up having a wonderful time," he smiled hazily.

Dax's brow creased in puzzlement. "Coerced? By whom?"

Bashir waved a hand casually. "Anasta, who else. She's good, almost as good as you. Had me halfway to the party before I figured out what she had done." He smiled at the recollection.

Dax noted the admiration in Bashir's voice and manners, and an eyebrow lifted. "Sounds like you two really hit it off."

Bashir's gaze fell to her, blinking in confusion. "'Hit it off'? Oh no, Jadzia. It wasn't like that at all. We're just friends, nothing more."

"Mm-hmm," Dax murmured, a slight smile on her lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped a bit too sharply.

"Julian, you walked in the door with Anasta on your arm and proceeded to spend most of the evening either dancing with her or talking with her."

Bashir laughed, though it rang hollow. "Oh come on Jadzia. Aren't you exaggerating just a little? I hardly spent the entire evening attached to Anasta. If I did spend a lot of time around her, it's because she doesn't know that many people on the station."

"Julian, don't give me that. _I saw you_. Everyone there was watching you."

Bashir's face suddenly paled. "Everyone?" he muttered.

"Everyone," Dax confirmed.

"Oh gods, Leeta," Bashir whispered, resting his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands.

"Yes, Leeta. Julian, you hurt her. She told me you didn't want to see her earlier that day, and that you weren't feeling well. Well, I saw you at that party, and you didn't look sick to me." Dax accused, crossing her arms defiantly.

Bashir slowly removed his hands from his face and stared at Dax, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Jadzia," he said carefully, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but whatever I do with Leeta is between us. Same goes for me and Anasta. I'll thank you to stay out of it." He switched tactics. "And don't presume to tell me how I feel, or when I'm sick. I'm the doctor; I know what I need and don't need."

Dax was getting angry at his stubbornness. "Julian, when you snub Leeta in public like that, it becomes public. She's my friend, and you hurt her deeply. Now I don't know what your problem is..."

"My problem?" Bashir asked with an incredible laugh. "It sounds like it's  _your_ problem. I had a pleasant evening with Anasta. That's all."

"You were acting like a lovesick puppy all evening," Dax countered.

"I was  _what_?" he cried, his features arranged in shock and disbelief.

"Julian, stop denying it. You're in love with Anasta."

Bashir's eyes went as wide as saucers, his mouth hanging slightly open. His lower lip moved slightly, as if trying to form a word, but no sound would emerge. He was in shock. A thousand things flew at lightning speed through his mind.  _In love with her_? _Impossible._   _Then why have you enjoyed her company_?  _She's a friend_. _Then explain your dream_.

That last thought echoed as he came out of his shock. "My dream," he mumbled. He slowly raised his eyes to Dax. "My god, that's what it meant. That's what's been bothering me."

"Julian, what are you talking about?"

"I have to go to Bajor," he announced, sparing a quick glance to Dax before leaving the Infirmary.

***

"I'm sorry doctor, but I cannot give you permission to leave this station," Sisko declared, sitting behind his desk.

Bashir bounced out of his chair, slapping his hands down on the desk. "Commander, I must return to Bajor. I have someone very important to see."

Sisko breathed deeply, trying to remain calm, remembering that Bashir was still recovering. "Whom do you have to see?" he asked, giving his CMO the benefit of the doubt.

Bashir straightened, staring directly into Sisko's eyes. "I need to see Doctor Lanall. It's very urgent."

Sisko took in the young man's rigid stance, the determined set of his jaw. "If you take Chief O'Brien along with you, you can go to Bajor. But I want you back as soon as possible, doctor." His sharp tone softened. "We need you here, too."

"I understand, sir." With a slight nod, Bashir was out the door.

***

Bajor was still a beautiful planet. Descending into the atmosphere, through fluffy white clouds was a thrilling sight. Chief O'Brien landed the Ganges in a clearing, about a kilo away from the Monastery.

"Okay, Julian, these are the coordinates. Now do you mind telling me what we're doing here?" O'Brien asked, turning around in the pilot's seat to stare at the only other passenger.

Bashir was already out of his seat, hitting the door release. "It's a private matter, Chief. I just have to see Doctor Lanall. You can return to DS9 if you want," he remarked offhandedly.

"Return?" O'Brien spluttered. "Um, Julian?" he questioned, "Just how long do you plan to be here?"

Bashir's gaze flicked to him, then back to the almost opened door. "If I'm lucky, the rest of my life," he announced before stepping through the door and taking off into the forest, leaving O'Brien staring at the empty runabout.

***

"He said _what_?" Sisko roared, pacing around his tiny office.

O'Brien cringed as his booming voice echoed around the room. "He said he might not be returning," he explained again.

"And you let him go?" Sisko's low voice reverberated along the floor, the ceiling, the desktop.

"Sir, he is my superior officer. I had no choice but to obey his orders," O'Brien shrugged, not sounding the least bit happy. "I didn't want to see him go."

Sisko's hand smacked the wall. "He's not gone yet. Chief, how about taking another trip to Bajor?"

***

Bashir paused at the gardens to the Monastery, reflecting on his first visit there. Nearly two months ago. Little had changed; the bubbling stream still scampered between the rocks, bringing life to the vast amount of flora. He walked out on the bridge, leaning over the side. He caught his reflection in the pool below, rippling slightly. A face appeared behind his, and he smiled.

"Minister Terata," he turned, greeting the kindly old man.

"Please, come with me," he beckoned, walking down the bridge and along the path. Bashir jogged slightly to catch up. "I have to meet with someone, Minister. Perhaps another time..." the doctor tried to grace his way out of this, but the Minister had other ideas.

He kept on walking, keeping a slow, steady pace. "Come. The answer you seek is within."

Puzzling over his last remarks, Bashir followed the Minister with no further comment, until the entered the Monastery.

"Minister, where are we going?" he asked quietly; the stillness inside was almost breathable.

Terata did not answer; only continued walking at the same pace. They turned down several corridors, deep inside the Monastery, deeper than Bashir had been. Finally, they came to an open door, and Terata paused outside it. Extending his hand, he ushered Bashir inside.

"Minister Terata, I don't understand. There's no one here," Bashir protested mildly, looking around the surprisingly well-lit room. The walls were carved with very ancient Bajoran text; tapestries hung between the sayings. A hexagonal shaped box was against one wall, and Bashir swallowed hard upon seeing it. He recognized the shape, the green disks in its side. It was an Orb.

"Minister..." he whispered desperately, his eyes glued to the box. When no one answered, he turned around; the minister was gone. Swallowing again, Bashir slowly turned back to the box. _The answer you seek is within_. The minister's words came back to him, and the doctor reached out his hand and opened the box.

Instantly surrounded by dazzling white light; it slowly faded back to the station, the Infirmary, and himself.

`I'm losing her.` "Bashir" said, looking down at a body on a biobed. `Her life force is growing weaker.`

Bashir stepped closer, trying to make out who it was. Walking in a wide arc around the bed, Bashir came up short as he finally saw her face; Lanall. "What's happened to her?" he demanded, rushing to her side and studying her readouts.

"Bashir" pushed him away. `You should know. You did it to her.`

"That's not true," Bashir gasped, glancing down at Lanall. "Anasta, can you answer me? What's wrong with you?"

"Lanall" smiled up at Bashir, reaching out to take his hand. `When I left the station to return to Bajor, I left part of myself behind. Then, when you asked me to return once again to the station, I though I was whole again. I was not.` "Lanall" paused, taking a rattled breath. `I discovered I left far more of myself down on Bajor, when I came to be with you.`

"No," Bashir whispered, tears falling next to her hand on the bed. "I would never have made you leave your home. I'll come to Bajor; live there with you."

The scene changed around him; the Infirmary faded to a cottage. The biobed shifted to a Bajoran bed, but this time, Bashir saw Sisko lying there.

"Commander?" he gasped hoarsely, taking his hand.

"Sisko" opened his eyes, frowning at the doctor. `Julian, this did not help. Lanall is whole; we are not. When you left you took the heart of the station with you. It's dying, Julian...` "Sisko's" voice faded, as he disappeared.

Bashir's face scowled in anger. "No! I refuse to believe that! DS9 won't be destroyed without me. It can't!" he pounded his fist on the bed, shaking with rage.

`What about me?` a very familiar voice asked quietly.

Bashir whipped around, coming face to face with "Lanall". She appeared now as she had in his dream; her white robes billowing about her, her hair being tossed by unseen wind. Only now, he could see her face. Her face, which glowed with iridescent light, the most beautiful woman he had ever met. "Anasta, nothing will happen to you if you move to the station. We can be together. We can be happy," he insisted, taking her hands in his, squeezing gently.

"Lanall" smiled sadly at him. `Oh, if you could hear yourself, Julian. Your happiness is very important to you. But Bajor is very important to me. Take me away from it, and one of us will suffer.` The scene switched around them; now they were back on the station, in the Infirmary. `Do you not see, Julian? Do you not hear it? Do you not understand?`

She vanished, leaving Bashir holding empty air. His hands fell to his sides, and then he heard it; the voices of every child he had delivered, every patient he had helped, every patient he had not. And then he heard the cries of all those he had not met yet, all those who would need him. The voices faded, and he was once again alone.

"But why can't I have both?" he whispered to himself, falling against the biobed.

`Why do you want both?` a voice countered.

Bashir turned his head, and caught a glimpse of a little girl, dark complexion, with big brown eyes set around a Bajoran nose. She was dressed like the Kai. He started to ask her who she was, but the scene faded, and he was once again in the monastery.

Shaking, he stumbled over to a bench and sat down weakly. Minister Terata appeared by his side.

"Did you find the answer you seek?" the old man asked as he took a seat next to Bashir.

Bashir just shook his head, trying to absorb everything he had seen. "I don't know," he answered, the only answer he was sure of.

"I understand. Soon, you will understand too." Patting the doctor on the leg, Terata stood, motioning for Bashir to follow him.

Since Bashir doubted he could find his way out of there by himself, he hoisted himself up and walked with the Minister. After several twists and turns, they came upon a room; the Infirmary.

"Doctor, she is waiting," Terata said, and walked sedately down the hall.

Baffled, Bashir peeked his head around the doorway, and froze. Lanall was there, bouncing a little girl on her knees. A little Bajoran girl with big, laughing brown eyes.

Lanall laughed, hugging the little girl close. "Now, are you feeling all better?" she asked. "That nasty old flu virus didn't come back, did it?"

"Nope," she answered, her hair flying about her face. "That auntie - antee -"

"Antibody," Lanall supplied.

"Right, antibody. It made me all better. My mommy's all better too, now, right?" she asked, her eyes turning solemn as they regarded the doctor.

Lanall smile widened. "Yes, she is. She can go home tomorrow, and you," she tickled her, "can stay with her tonight, if you want." The girl nodded enthusiastically.

Bashir crept away from the door, his emotions in a jumble. Frustration, love, sorrow, hope, despair, all fought for control. He tasted bittersweet tears at the corners of his mouth; he now understood why Lanall had to remain on Bajor, and why he had to return to DS9. They both had their work to do. But it didn't make it any easier. Terata appeared mysteriously by his side once again, and they made their way back out to the garden.

"Julian, I hope you have found what you sought here," Terata said quietly. Pitching his voice even lower, he added, "And I'm sorry you found something you were not looking for as well."

Bashir managed to whisper, "Thank you," before he walked away, deeper into the garden.

***

"These are the coordinates, sir," O'Brien announced upon touching down on Bajor.

"Good," Sisko said as he tapped his commbadge. "Sisko to Bashir."

Silence for a minute, then, "Bashir here."

Sisko's brow creased in concern. "Doctor, are you all right? You don't sound well," he ventured.

"I'm fine, sir," Bashir's voice came through, a bit stronger. "I'm ready to return to the station. What are your coordinates?"

"We're at the dropoff site," O'Brien chimed in.

Bashir was silent for a few more seconds, then said, "I'll be there shortly. Bashir out."

Bashir got up and stretched, having sat in the garden for a good two hours, thinking. He had come to several decisions, the first being that he would never tell Lanall how he felt about her. It wouldn't be fair to her; she had a life here, on Bajor. But, he didn't want to see Leeta anymore. He already had what he wanted to say to her worked out in his mind. And apologies, to most of his friends, for snapping at them. He realized now that part of the problem had rested within himself; he didn't speak up for himself enough; and occasionally people walked over him. Not anymore.

And now he was ready to resume his life on DS9.

***

"Come in."

The chime on Bashir's door had been going off for nearly two hours, with everyone in and out. Some people he had requested, O'Brien and Kira, for starters. Dax and Sisko had stopped by, to give him encouraging words or apologies. Even Odo had made an appearance, and Bashir had apologized for his outburst. He had gone to Leeta's quarters and broke it off with her. She had been fine about it, which didn't really surprise him. He would miss her company, but perhaps in a few weeks, they could start over with a good friendship. So he was at a loss as to who was at his door now.

When the person didn't say anything, Bashir went to the door and opened it himself, saying, "I said, come..." his voice died on his lips as he blinked in surprise at his visitor.

"May I come in, doctor?" Garak asked politely, his hands folded behind his back.

"Of course," Bashir stammered, stepping aside and closing the door behind him. "Sit, please."

"Thank you, no. I just wanted to stop by and give you this," Garak brought his hands out from behind his back, and offered a small package.

Bashir took it, holding it delicately in his hands. "What is it, Garak?" he asked, sitting on his couch and opening it. It was a small holo.

"It's a holo of the Mor'un Valley, in the full bloom of summer, on Cardassia," Garak explained quietly. "I used to live there."

Bashir's eyes widened as he stared at the beautiful picture. "Garak, I can't possibly accept this. It's yours; it's your home." He held the holo out to the Cardassian.

"No," Garak said firmly. "No," he said quieter, "I don't live there anymore. I live here, on this station. I think it's finally sunk through my thick skull, after all these years. My life is here."

"Oh Garak," Bashir murmured sadly, wanting to say more, but Garak forestalled him.

"Julian," Bashir blinked at Garak's use of his first name, "I'm sorry I never came back to see you after your awakening. I realized I said some very personal things to you while you were in the coma, and I was ashamed to face you. But I've come to terms with that, and I'm here now."

Bashir nodded, unable to speak. Even if he could speak, he wouldn't know what to say.

Garak continued, "I talked to you about Tain; about how I tried to get him off that Romulan ship; about how he refused. What I didn't tell you was how I felt." He paused, sinking into a chair. "I was hurt. Tain was my mentor; a father figure to me. He offered me my freedom; my chance at returning home. But in the end, it was he who didn't want to return. He was ashamed; I was ashamed for him. And now he's dead, along with my only chance of returning home. I will remain in exile, and I can either shrivel up and die, or I can make the best of it. I choose the latter." His head snapped up, his clear blue eyes boring into Bashir's. "I hope you can meet with me for lunch tomorrow."

Bashir was too stunned to say anything. He sat quietly, absorbing what Garak had just told him, what he had admitted. Clearing his throat, Bashir smiled warmly at the tailor. "It would be my honor to have lunch with you tomorrow, Garak," he announced.

Garak nodded once, then rose out of the chair. "Tomorrow then, same time?"

Bashir nodded. "I'll be there," he promised, seeing Garak to the door.

Garak paused in the threshold, turning back to look at Bashir. "It's good to have you back, doctor," he said quietly before stepping outside Bashir's quarters.

Bashir smiled first at the closed door, then the holo still in his hand. "I couldn't agree more," he murmured, his eyes shining.

THE END


End file.
